There is a God
But he ain’t showing himself
Why is he letting his “great power”
Rot on the shelf?

My faith is waning
My awe is fading
It’s too loud
Too big of a crowd
Looking for peace
But that hasn’t happened.

Where the frick did you go?
Why did you leave
When I needed you the most?
If you’re really there
Show yourself
Come back.

In my bones, I am a poet
And every word I trail shows it
Like a fingerprint to trace
Conjures an image of my face.

Any essays, I might write
With golden flourish, thrilling heights
With wide crescendos, rumbling frisson
Soft like silk and smooth like ribbon.

So when my teacher does request
A lab report or written test
I may bring tears to their eyes—
Still, I did not get it right.

Am I invisible?!
Because you’re avoiding my eyes.
What are you hiding?
Look at me.

Am I silenced
Because you ignore my cries
Are you deaf?
Or are you just cruel?

I can’t feel my pulse
I’m afraid I don’t want to
Do I want to?
I don’t know.

1990’s
Normal was not weird
2019
Normal (typical) is gay, weird, and depressed.

Normal is only temporary
Normal can be weird
If weird is what is popular
Then that will become normal as well.

I am but a specter—
An apparition, immaterial and gauzy,
Gossamer and ghostly,
Hardly even there.

When I leave,
They do not notice.

When I stay,
They do not notice.

I am as the pleasant music,
Playing in the background.
Enjoyed when present, seldom missed
When all that fills the silence is
Their voices, chattering like birds
Above the sea, without me.

I am as the cheerful actress,
Seen but never known.
I say my lines without a flaw
Unbelievably real, so the audience
Believes that they know my soul,
The marrow of my bones and the essence
Of what my heart pumps through my veins,
But the things they know are as curated
As these words upon the page.

It is too dark
Unnaturally dark
The night eating away
The light.

Oh the light
What a magnificent sight
Yellow and white
Shining bright.

Oh the dark
In such stark
Contrast for the night marks
A time where things meet
In the cover of black
Hiding away, discreet.

The dark hushes
Dims light
So they only glow
Their white light
Turning yellow
Muted
By too dark darkness.

Loneliness
Is a great grey funnel cloud
Trying to whisk us away
But not to the Wizard of Oz
It takes us away
To a Land of Pain.

I collapse
Relapse
Back to
What I was before.

It hurts to the core
Don’t think I can take anymore
My heart is sore
Because of what, I’m not sure.

But something is missing
Me and sadness are reminiscing
But without pleasure
Stumbled upon it
Like a bitter angry treasure.

Maybe what’s missing is me.

So I had a WellCheck today
I had a paper I had to fill out
One of the questions was
“How do you feel most of the time?”
The choices were:
Sad, angry, happy, and worried
I circled happy
The real answer was worried

All these stories in my head
I’d rather write instead
Of changing my real life for the better.

I’m not a kid
Not an adult
I’m something else, something more
Not an adult
Not that mature
But some of my innocence left

I live for you while you **** me.

I crave approval from everyone
Yet I promote individuals,
I want to know I am wanted
But do not want to know I am “cool”.

Why do people hate
No good things will it create
All it will ever do
Is make people hate you too.

Well, I just took an online-test
That told me I was mildly depressed
It also said I’m moderately
Passive-aggressive too.

A couple good things
It said to me,
I’m not a psychopath!
I have high self esteem
And I’m not a narcissist!

No one who knows me
Would ever think
I’m mildly depressed.

Except for you guys
As you have seen
Beneath this phony zest.

No, I won’t stress myself to the point where I start breaking down and getting mad and making everyone else’s day ****.
Too late.

I’m bored so I’m writing a poem
But I’m not in my writing zone
So there’s no hidden meaning
No ranting or screaming
All I’m doing is writing a poem.

I’ll meet you in the meadow
Where the sun never sets
And everyone can forgive the mess
We made where
No one judges
Meet me there
I wanna see you there
I want you to come with me
Where we can finally
Be happy.

Together.

I make these poems
Because I need
Someone to just
Hear me out
For once.

Even if
That person
Is a stranger
I am just glad
Someone is listening
To me for once.

Ink runs down the paper
Like my words are crying too.
I write these for a person.
Someone, I don’t know who.

Thought is so unnecessary,
And yet these thoughts run rampant here,
They rage inside my untrained mind,
My calls no one can hear.

In a room all by myself,
Screeches fill the air,
But only I can hear them.
All you hear is
Stone
Cold
Silence.

I never knew
How much it’d cost
To simply stay the same.

I never knew
How much it’d mean
If my savior ever came.

I never knew
.
.
.
I wish I did.

Where am I?
Where did I go?

Why can’t I find me?

Sadness
Is often seen
In blue colors.
Tears
Are blue
They are made of water
And salt
They taste like the sea.
The sea
Comes in waves
And so does
Pain.

I just ate an entire container of
Cherry tomatoes
What the heck?!
Who does that?!

This dog is warm
Pleasedon’tmovePleasedon’tmovePleasedon’tmove
Gosh dang it he woke up!

Picture your world. I bet you’re picturing the big, fat, beautiful Earth right now, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now.
Picture YOUR world.
Your world is small, and mainly consists of those within your life.
You may even have only one person or only a few who are your world.
That’s okay.
Well, anyways, picture your world and those who reside within it.
Now think bigger.
Picture all the “worlds” in your area (maybe state, city, or country)
Picture all the people that mean EVERYTHING to everyone in your city.
That’s a lot of worlds, huh?
Okay.
Think bigger.
Picture all the world’s on EARTH!
We’re only ONE planet of many, yet we’ve already got a universe.
Lives sprinkle Earth’s surface like stars.
There are like a bazillion world’s, in the sense of personal worlds.
I’m not the only one that cries.
I’m not the only one that hurts.
I’m only one asteroid in this galaxy of people.
In the big picture, I’m a speck.
I don’t even matter.
If I died, most of the world wouldn’t know.
If existence was based on how many people knew your name,
I’d be nonexistent.
Now go back to your own world.
That’s not all you see now.
You see glimpses of other worlds just drifting away.
What’s the point of all this, you might ask?
The point is:
All worlds matter.
You destroy a world, you destroy a life.
You hurt somebody, and they’ll remember.
Even as itsy bitsy as we are compared to the vast cosmos,
We matter.
Everyone matters.
Small as our worlds may be,
Every single one matters.
We are not small to us,
And that’s what matters.

If life is a marathon
I’m losing the race
Because I am so lost
I’m a forgotten case.

I was having a good day
Then you reminded me
Of how imperfect I am
It’s like a roller coaster
You anticipate the fun
The higher you go
Feeling good
And then it stops
And you look down
And you’re scared
Because it’s a long fall
And your teetering on the edge
And when you plummet
Towards the ground
And your scream
Escapes your lips
Everyone thinks your having fun
But you’re really scared to death.
You feel good
Until you’re reminded
That you’re fifty feet in the air
And the cement is hard
And unforgiving.

I stumble into a crowd
And it parts like Moses’ Red Sea
I’m not any celebrity
They must be afraid
Of someone like me.

I think why life never gives us a break,
Or when he does, it’s short
Because when we get life completely easy
We turn conceited and lazy.

I am not saying I want life to be hard.
In fact, I wish quite the opposite.
I am just unsure of the thing I’d become
If I forgot how to work for happiness.

Please don’t be offended
I know there are parents here
But I just don’t understand you
I don’t understand your fear.

Why do parents want you to focus
And then talk to you too
Like I’m supposed to focus
On my homework AND you.

I just want to know
If you guys think punishment will fix
My severe anxiety
And my poor time-management.

I just want to know
Why you guys just tell kids they’re wrong
Without giving us specifics
Well I guess you do
And I’m just unfixable.

I thought you were a poem
And then you were a song
Or maybe even a dance
So graceful and strong.

I thought you were a poem
But you seemed like a dream
I thought you were a poem
But you’re really many things.

I can’t even look you in the eye
It hurts too bad
I tear away
My eyes tearing up
Unless of course, I wear sunglasses.

I’d like to inform you guys
That my real name is Malia.
In Hawaiian it means
“Calm and gentle waters”
I am unsure whether it can be true.
I mean, sometimes
I just want peace.
I don’t want to get
All caught up in a storm
Because I know my ship will sink
And I’ll drown.
But sometimes I want to drown.
I want to throw myself in a fire.
Okay.
Maybe not that intense.
Maybe it IS that intense.
But sometimes I just want to watch the flames dance,
And revel in the chaos of it all.

Sometimes calm and gentle waters
Are not for me.

You give me pain you drive me insane but that’s ok because today I produced something magic from all of the pent up sadness you begot

I’d be hot as a guy.

Pharaoh told us to leave.
As we hurried gathering
What little possessions we had,
Unleavened bread baking in the oven
The smell of bread floating under our noses.

Pharaoh changed his mind
Sent his armies after us,
I can’t believe
We ever thought we were free.

I beg of Moses
DO SOMETHING
But he can’t
All we can do is wait for a miracle.

As the armies marched toward us
I could feel the vibrations of their feet
Then suddenly
Moses parted the seas!

Oh the joy that rushed through me!
We were saved-
Saved by God!
I thanked the Lord for his grace,
For we are saved!

There are so many things to do
Places to be
Things to say
People to meet.

So don’t purposefully die any time soon. Thank you.

For me,
Days don’t exist.
They blur
Into long stretches of time instead:
Boring
Not boring
Happy
Sad
Painful
Monotonous
Angry.
I don’t measure time in days
Or months
Or even years.
Time for me
Is measured in emotion.

Why do people scream
Yelling won’t fix anything.
What do they think volume’s gonna do?
It won’t help them gain any power over you.

You are what you eat
And you write what you read.

I have never read the greats
Except an occasional poem for class,
And I feel like a heretic for saying that.

I’ve never willingly
Read Shakespeare or E.E. Cummings
But instead:

I read the words of online poets
Consuming their ink—
Or should I say pixels?
I graze their crimson lining as they
Turn themselves inside out to
Let the whole internet see.

I rise with the wave that they weave with their words
And then when it crashes, when it crashes down
I go under as if drowning was velvety soft and I
Let it wash me onto the shore.

You are what you eat and
You write what you read.

Rarely do I read stilted lines and perfect form
So I write like a mess and a surge and a storm.

Right now a baby is born.
Right now someone is dying.
Right now someone is wishing they were dead.
Right now someone is laughing.
Right now somebody’s crying.
Right now someone is in love.
Right now someone is falling out of love.
Right now someone is raising a kid.
Right now someone is drinking away their feelings.
Right now someone is scared.
Right now someone is screaming.
Right now someone just died.
Right now someone just created life.
Right now you are living.
Live
Love
Cry.
Right now you are alive.

I can’t just wish
And it will happen.

No,
Life likes to spice things up.
Unfortunately.

Wake up...
                                                           ­              I know you’re there...
                                            Malia...
   ­                     WAKE UP...
                                                           Please...
      I miss you...
                                                          ­                      Are you here...?
                              Come back....
          
                                                       People need you...
            I need you...

What do I wonder
What do I see
What do I stutter
What do I breath.

I though I knew so
But I did not
Ordinariness
Every day is the same.

Fly away my hummingbird
That I might hear
You chirp another day
That your colors bright I may see again.

Come back for the spring
With the blue buds blooming
After hard cold winter
Will I see you again?

Nevertheless, if you leave
And do not return
I wish you well
Stay free, my hummingbird.

Who do you exist for?
Your family, friend or lover?
But I exist for no one.
Yet.
I wish to meet the person
That could change my mind.

We are all soldiers
Fighting famine and sadness.
We’re fighting ourselves too, I think.
What a painstaking task
That we assign ourselves.